Christmas
by Druantis
Summary: Okay, okay, I fell to the temptation of writing christmas Fluff. SpikeBuffy, season 7.
1. Chapter 1

December 21st

No. Freaking. Way.

"Buuuuuuffffffy!" I roar, and she comes bounding down the stairs. She looks beautiful tonight, but I'm too angry for her to be beautiful.

"Spike, what is it?" She puffs, concerned.

"For the love of god, tell your friends, Harris and his bird, that if they ever do it in my bloody bed again, they're dead. Soul or no soul, Morals or no morals, If I ever smell that boys spunk on MY bed again, he will be dead before he even finishes!"

She raises an eyebrow at me, and then her jaw drops.

"Anya and Xander had sex?" She gasps, and claps her hands together happily. "So they've made up then!"

"It doesn't fucking matter!" I yell. "My bed. Sex. No washing the sheets... bloody inconsiderate if you ask me..."

"Geez Mr Angry man." She scolds. "Can't you be happy? They made up!"

"Like I care! I never cared what happened to Harris."

"Yeah," She says, shuffling her feet. "But you have a soul now."

I roll my eyes. "So that means I care about the love lives of people I really don't care about the love lives of?"

"Oh. Guess not." She points to the washing machine. "Knock yourself out." And climbs the stairs.

I grab the feral smelling quilt and shove it in. As I pick up the dishwashing liquid I hear footsteps on the stairs. I look up to see her.

"Yeah?" I say. She puts her hands awkwardly on the railing.

"My bad." She says. "About the soul thing." Then she blows me a small kiss and bounces out.

Once I'm sure she's gone I do the one thing I'll never admit to later. I reach my hand into the air, close my fist around the invisible kiss and put it in my pocket. Reaching for the washing liquid again I quietly sing to myself.

"Catch a shooting star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away... Your a bleeding wanker, It was just an air kiss, don't save it for a rainy day..."

December 24th.

His cot smells like him. It's been washed thank god, and I can see why he was so pissed. I know I shouldn't be down here, but he's out for the night, and I found a spider in my bed. Okay, it's a feeble excuse, I could've just taken the couch… but hey? Who doesn't like a bed.

Especially one that smells of nicotine and bourbon and patent leather and hair gel, and all the things I connect with that stupid vampire. And no, It doesn't make an entirely pretty picture, the things he smells like. But he's more than what he eats and wears, he's… here. Crap.

Go out, get pissed, walk home, reach Buffy's house, be sober again. Halleluiah vampire healing. Repeat as needed.

The old days I'd stumble back into my crypt, still drunk; closer to the pub. I mean bar. Americans.

These days I'll be completely sober by the time I get to bed. (I push open the door to the house… unlocked as usual.) I don't mind. Coming home to Buffy's house is a blessing in it's own, even if its for no reason other than safety in numbers. I wish it was because she loved me and wanted me to live with her. (I wander through the kitchen…)

But just having her around is good. I feel like she's always there. (I look dejectedly at my basement door.) She's in my life. (I turn the handle.) She's in my heart. (I walk through the door.) She's in my bloody soul! (I walk down the stairs.) She's in my… Bed?

"Um, slayer?" He asks me, sitting at the end of the cot. On the springless mattress he feels like a dead weight. Hehe, _dead _weight… get it? "Why are you in my, for lack of a better word, bed?" He's smirking in that old, insolent way. I grin sheepishly, and shift around a little.

"There was a spider in my bed… and I figured you'd be out most of the night…" I try and explain. Not convincingly. Why would it be? It was a feeble excuse from the get go.

He raises an eyebrow. "Couch? Cup and cardboard? You're the slayer, and your scared of one spider?"

"I wasn't scared!" I deny, losing my argument a little more. "And I put it outside, but who's to say there weren't more, waiting in the blankets…" He chuckles and does that thing with his tongue. "…waiting in the blankets, ready to crawl out all over my skin and…" I ramble, struggling for a not stupid reason to be scared of spiders. He gazes at me expectantly. "Ravage me?" I finish.

He laughs. "The spiders are going to crawl out of the blankets, over your skin, and _ravage _you?" He summarizes sarcastically.

"Kay, maybe ravage isn't the right word…" I reply, rolling my eyes. Gain the upper hand NOW bastard!

"Oh, I think its _exactly _the right word." He says, standing up. I'm not sure where to go with this, or exactly what he means, but I think he might be implying something about our 'relationship'.

"Spiders are very _sensual _creatures." He continues. Okay, getting weird now. "They lurk in the darkness, only to crawl out and take what they need. And if people get hurt in the process that's their problem. Coz these little arachnids got one thing on their mind. Staying alive. Keeping themselves, their species, their future, alive. And life, why, life is about everything really."

I'm not sure where I was going on the spider-speech. I think when I said that thing about ravage being the right word I just had to make up for it. She looked downright scared then.

I think I ended up with spiders being a metaphor for vampires. As far as bugs go, mosquitoes are better for that… Course, why would someone be comparing bugs to Vampires? Maybe bats… or wolves… She better say something or I'll be thinking about this all night.

"That wasn't very sensual Spike." She states. I scratch my Adams apple thoughtfully.

"Nah, I got off topic." I reply. "Come to think of, was there ever a topic?"

She nods. "Me being in your bed. Walk quickly tonight?"

"Yeah, I guess. Why?" I ask, confused. She smirks mischievously.

"Your still a bit drunk."

I discard it with a wave of my hand. "Not for long luv." I sigh, and sit down again. "Subject o' beds. You can stay here if you want. I'll commandeer your comfy bed. Spiders don't scare me. Or you can go upstairs and get over your stupid fear yourself. " I smirk, ready to undermine… undermining in action… "I'll tuck you in if you need it, pet." Undermining deployed.

"Would you?" I ask, pouting. I know he's just trying to undermine my strength and feminine… strength, but I haven't been tucked into bed since mum died. Spike is substitute mum. Now that's just sad. He stares blankly for a minute then chuckles and grins.

"Alrighty!" He laughs, and picks me up like a little girl, carrying me upstairs. "Now, I 'avnt don't this for a fair few years love, but I'll do my best. As we pass through the kitchen he begins to sing in a soft deep lullaby voice. I laugh at the absurdity of it. "Catch a shooting star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day…" He pauses to push my door open, placing me carefully on the bed, and pulling the sheets up, he drops to his knees next to me and continues. "Catch a shooting star," This time he mimes catching something out of the air, a shooting star would be my best guess. I grin dotingly up at him. So sweet. "And put it in your pocket…" He pushes his hand into his pocket in an exaggerated gesture. "Never let it fade away." He finishes and ruffles my hair. "'night slayer." He says, and quickly kisses my forehead. He walks to the door and pulls it nearly closed. Switching off the light he shuts it. "Sleep tight!" I hear him call.

"Spike wait!" I hiss, calling him back. He pushes the door open. "Never fade away." He smiles a huge genuine smile, and quickly glances at my neon clock. 12:02.

"One more thing…" He says. "Merry Christmas."


	2. Chapter 2

"Merry Christmas Buffy!" Dawn laughs at me, and throws me a present. I like presents.

"Merry Christmas to you too." I say, "I cant believe I forgot though…"

"You did get me a present right?" She asks, eyes lowering into slits. I toss her a pink box.

"Don't worry, I remembered it was Christmas a couple of weeks ago, just with all the potentials and stuff, I guess it slipped my mind. Where are they anyway?"

"Park. Having a little party. Leaving us for family, and family-like friends. And of course Spike, as they're a) scared of him and b) He can't actually go out to the park.

Talking of Spike, what did I hear last night? I'm almost certain I heard him… singing?"

Peeling the tape off my present I nod. "Yeah, he, err, tucked me into bed…" I rip the rest of the paper off and scrunch it into a ball. "Ooh! Beautiful leather jacket… and receipt. Dawn you're the best little sister a girl can have."

A ball of paper lands on the coffee table next to mine, closely followed my a cardboard box.

"Oh… Buffy!" She says surveying the small shiny crossbow with affection.

"Your not patrolling or anything just yet, but I'll train you."

I hear the clomping sound of Doc Martins on the wooden stairs from the basement.

"Morning lovelies." Spike sings, tossing me and Dawn a present each, and laying one on the counter. I can see "Red" written on it in curly 'English' handwriting.

Dawn, still not entirely pleased with spike surveys him with distrust. She opens the long flat box and pulls out a shiny hatchet-y axe.

"Oh Spike, how did you know?" She laughs, swinging it lightly.

"Yeah, how _did _you?" I ask raising my eyebrow at him.

"Saw you wrapping your Prezzie for her." He drawls in reply, but he is shifting weight nervously from one foot to the other. I place the gift he gave me on the coffee table. I think I know what's wrong.

Did she get me a present? It's Christmas, We're friends… Aren't we? We aren't friends! She hates me! Oh god! I got my soul back for her and she didn't even get me a Christmas present. Okay, don't show your upset. You tried to rape her. Its all cool. She can hate you. Okay me, meet her eyes.

"I really didn't expect you up this early." She says. God she's so beautiful… "I was going to get you up when Xander and Willow got here. Well. Do you want to come upstairs and get your present now?"

Wait? She got me a present? We're friends! She doesn't hate me! She loves- okay _likes _me! Life is all good. Okay, close your mouth and follow her. That's right, feet walk. Go on. You know you want too…

We move up the stairs and into her bedroom. She shuts the door. The sleeping bags littering the floor have all been kicked to the corner of the room. Buffy's bed is unmade and littered with clothes. Her wardrobe is open and, hey, littered with clothes. I stand in the middle of the room and look at her, feigning casual curiosity. She chuckles.

"Even with my new job, we've been a bit strapped for cash lately." She explains, sitting on the bed. "Most presents are you know, not so fabulous… Xander and Wills just got books and Cds and computer gamage. Giles got an ancient tome I stole from a demon… I think he'll like it, but you know, free. You I had even more trouble with. What do you get the man who only wears black t-shirts and jeans? I have no taste in your weird punk music. Weapons… I thought about it, but what's the point? You have your own, and your welcome to use any one mine whenever. So I thought I could go for something less boxed-gift-y, quite a lot cheaper, but something you'll _really _appreciate. "

He's standing in the middle of my room, a look on his face that implies a puppy having the word 'sit' yelled at it, over and over, but no idea what the word itself means.

"So…" He begins and then chuckles, composing himself. "What do I get?"

I stand up. Okay, this is easy. Easy as pie. Pie, shit, have to make pie….

Okay, I walk over and stand in front of him. He's looking down at me, his brow furrowed into a little skin-like arrow.

Okay, one teeny movement. All it takes. He needs a present after all.

Out of no where I feel her lips against mine. I stand still in shock, and she pulls away, a hurt look on her face. She bows her head, and I hear her voice quiver slightly when she speaks.

"Okay, If you don't want to… it, it's-"

Yay! Spike is kissing me. Like properly kissing me, the way he used to. Harsh, and demanding-ly. I feel his arm snake round my waist and pull me closer, right, like really really close. I clasp my hands behind his neck, and push open his lips with my tongue, diving into his mouth. His hand that isn't around my waist, is on the small of my back, and he freaking' dips me back, so my hair is almost touching the floor. After what feels like days, but it cant have been more than a minute or two, given the whole "breathing" thing I need to do, we break apart.

He smirks at me.

"Good present."

They bound down the stairs, hand in hand, Buffy's face glowing with happiness, And Spike's face, well, still has the deathly pallor, but he looks really happy. I grin. Okay, I'm angry at Spike still, obviously. But he did get a soul, and we all forgave Angel after the incident(s). Anyway, it's a really cool axe. My major issue is Xander's face right now. It almost looks vamp-game-face-esque. Poor guy. No way he'll take this well.

Buffy turns to Spike, and with a giggle, kisses him deeply, before turning to the present left on the coffee table. She reads the card first, good manners there.

"Buffy, Didn't know what to buy… Spike."

With a quick furrow of her brows she rips into the present.

"Buffy the Vampire Slayer, seasons 1-7?" She reads, confused to hell. He face is on the cover of the DVD box set, and its just plain creepy. She turns to Spike.

He shrugs. "Bought it from and inter-dimensional travelling demon. Apparently there's a plane where our whole life is just a cult hit TV show."

"Okay, that's odd."


End file.
